


Exact Words

by LexiTheDoubleedge



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Modification, Gen, consensual body modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiTheDoubleedge/pseuds/LexiTheDoubleedge
Summary: No one could deny the appeal of being able to have the body you'd always dreamed of, just like that.But what would it do to your -mind-?





	Exact Words

From the outside, it looked about the same as any other small medical practice in a light multi-purpose building. In fact, it looked almost identical to my dentist's office from the outside. But the service offered here was... far less prosaic.

I looked up at the sign above the door.

NEW-U GENETIC TRANSMUTATION SERVICES, LLC

They made it sound almost boring. But there was nothing boring about what they did here. Which was take people and make them _better_. Oh, no one walked out of here as the stereotypical stacked blonde unless they were already most of that anyway. Usually you didn't even have to update your driver's license photos, or so I'd heard. But they'd make you a healthy and gorgeous version of whatever you started as, at a minimum.

The idea was still pretty scary, even if they had perfect ratings for ethics and safety according to the various monitoring organizations. But I'd managed to work up the courage - and the funds - for their services, and so here I was.

I went inside.

The clerk was a surprisingly mousy little thing, busy doing something or other on the computer in front of her. "Uh, hi? Liz Alton, I'm here for my four o'clock appointment?" I hoped I didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

She didn't look up. "ID?" I handed her my card, which she swiped through a reader before handing it back. "Okay, you'll need to do some paperwork first." And then she handed me a tablet. Actual paper for your paperwork was apparently too old-fashioned...

Or maybe it was just too complicated for print. There was a relatively standard checklist for medical conditions, medications taken, allergies, and so forth, with a note that certain points would be verified by a blood test during the procedure. There was an additional section that basically focused on telling people with certain eating disorders that they were not eligible because "if your fat reserves are not high enough YOU WILL DIE", except in slightly friendlier language. This was again noted as being verified by tests.

After that was a section covering the various options and preferences I had to choose from. This was already prefilled with the choices I'd made during the reservation process - I'd read that they considered this stage too important to be done from anywhere but the comfort of your own home. Given the variety of options (some of which were... rather exotic), it made sense. But if I'd changed my mind about something, I could make changes. That didn't apply to me though.

The final page had a list of warnings, mostly focused around the fact that all changes were permanent unless modified later by additional treatments. There was one, however, that nearly sent me running for the door.

WARNING: PHYSICAL TRANSFORMATIONS MAY INVOLVE CONCURRENT CHANGES IN INTELLIGENCE.

That... was a lot more alarming than anything I'd been worried about before.

But I was so tired of being 'the plain one'...

I finished ticking boxes. Signed. Turned in the tablet...

And went through the door.

***

Things went surprisingly simply from there. The testing was largely automated, with one technician handling some of the finicky details. She looked just as incredible as I'd expect from someone working at a place devoted to making people look incredible, so... I hoped that should be reassuring?

Finally, I was handed a vial of clear liquid and an instruction sheet, and shown to a room with a bed. Apparently the liquid had a mild soporific effect, because "no one wants to be awake through that" (urgh), so it was recommended to lie down immediately after drinking to avoid the risk of injury.

I took the cap off the vial.

Last chance to back out, Liz...

...

I drank it.

***

Mmmm... five more minutes...

***

Wait. This wasn't my bed. What the hell?

Not that that would have gotten me to hurry up too much under normal circumstances. I was never a graceful riser when I didn't have to be.

If I hadn't caught a glimpse of my arm thorugh half-open eyes. And remembered where I was and what I was doing.

My skin looked perfect. Not the kind of 'perfect' that looked like it was painted on - the documentation I'd read had explained the difference clearly, with pictures. But the odd blotchy spots had been cleared up, and instead of having enough spots that I looked like I might have one of those alarmingly aggressive skin diseases, I just had a light scattering of freckles as an accent. The kind of imperfection that looks better than perfection ever could.

That got me up to look over the rest of me. And conveniently, there was a mirror on the back of the door.

Where my hair could have been described as having "tangles" - if the describer were in a charitable mood - I now had curls. The color was the same brown as always, but it had just a hint of shine - not enough that it looked like I was slathering my hair with things to get it, but enough to make brown seem exciting instead of bland.

Teeth a little straighter - and I appeared to have regrown one somewhere in there. Nose a little less prominent. Ears a little smaller. Legs a little better shaped. Breasts... about the same size as before, but the shape there was a bit better too, and they seemed to 'squish' better in a way that I couldn't quite quantify. Firm, but...

I realized I was feeling myself up in what was nominally a medical establishment. I hadn't picked any of the libido alteration options, but... turns out that waking up as the ideal version of yourself is actually a bit of a turn-on.

Probably ought to get a move on before exploring that any further. The instructions said after waking up to follow the arrows to the recovery room to have some snacks and reading material. I guess it was a bit like donating blood with the snacks, but... reading material?

***

I picked up a packet of cheese crackers and started perusing the 'reading material' as it were.

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. It looked like it was mostly textbooks. Medicine. Architecture. Math. Microelectronics. Lots of sciences, both abstract and applied.

The walls that weren't covered in bookshelves were still covered in stuff. Charts of cell anatomy. Pictures of physics experiments. Math problems...

Huh, so x is 4 in that one. Clever.

...

Wait, what?

I went back to the shelves and grabbed a calculus book. Flipped through it, did some problems in my head. Had to do a bit of reading for some of the later ones, but I didn't have any problems once I'd absorbed the concepts.

Which was pretty damn peculiar if you asked me. Because I passed calc more through persistence than ability, and had basically forgotten it all in the years since.

I put the book down, ate my crackers, and finally...

"What the hell?"

No one answered, but that at least wasn't surprising, since I was alone in the room.

***

I walked into the front office again. The clerk looked up at me and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Great. Why am I suddenly some kind of math genius?"

"Cognitive enhancement is a known side effect of the process," she replied. "We try to provide an assortment of materials so that patients can discover any new affinities as quickly as possible, since it seems to make the acclimation process easier. Though we're starting to run out of room."

Cognitive -enhancement-? "But that warning..."

"We had to put that in after someone had to quit her job after her new skills made it impossible to enjoy being a waitress. Though I hear she's very happy working with the food safety division of the CDC now." She shrugged. "We'd like to make the warning clearer, but... bureaucracy."

Huh. Though that did make me wonder... "So if it doesn't, uh..." 'make you stupid', is what I couldn't quite bring myself to say, "... how come you haven't done it yourself?"

She just stared at me for a moment. Blinked. And then _smiled_.

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Ah, question withdrawn?" I stammered out. Some people, apparently, could make mousy -work-.

She laughed. "I had to learn how to 'turn it off' at my last job, or I'd never have gotten any work done. Not really ideal, but... the reflexes don't go away quickly."

I winced. That didn't sound fun at all. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Now, do you have any other questions?" I shook my head. "Okay then. You'll receive a followup survey in the mail in about a week, so please watch for it."

***

I had to stop for a moment and look up at the sky as I went out the door.

Same world. Same me... but better.

And good at math. Never would have expected that.

**Author's Note:**

> In Which I Scratch My Head At 'Bimbofication' Stories.
> 
> In the rare instances of such I've seen that don't make me go "So... misogyny, basically?", the idea seems to be that lower intelligence results in increased happiness.
> 
> ... I've seen way too many sitcoms to buy that one, sorry. Sounds more like some kind of emotional manipulation ability that wouldn't require being linked to intelligence anything but ends up being linked anyway because go to hell, I guess.


End file.
